So, Who the Heck Am I, Anyway?

Just your average 43-year-old. I don’t have a tragic or traumatic past that I am numbing with food. In fact, I think that my life has been pretty normal. Was it perfect? Of course not. Growing up, we had struggles, shortage of money was a big one and that fuels some of my neuroses these days. But in reality, I don’t think my challenges are that much different than those faced by millions of other people every single day. I’ve almost always struggled with low self-esteem and I’m not sure where that came from, and I don’t even know that it matters. I’m all about moving forward now, not dwelling on the past.

With regard to dieting and weight, I’ve pretty much always felt fat. My first conscious memory of feeling fat was in the second grade. My first conscious memory of trying to restrict food to lose weight was in about sixth grade. There were various attempts here and there throughout high school, though always in secret because I was ashamed of needing to diet. The sad thing is, looking back at old photos, I realize I wasn’t really that fat, at all. A little chubby, sure, probably 10 – 20 pounds depending on the year. But my guess is that it was the kind of chubby that I might have grown out of if I’d learned good self-nurturing habits and self-esteem instead of trying to diet. But, oh well, that’s water under the bridge.

Like most kids that go away to college, I gained weight my freshman year. My freshman 15 was a freshman 20, which I lost in my junior year, but regained in my senior year while stressing out studying for my comprehensive exams. After graduation, the true cycle of dieting, losing and regaining began, with my weight gradually creeping upward for the last 20 years. As of this writing, I’m not sure exactly how much I weigh since I haven’t done so for several weeks. But the last time I stepped on the scale I weighed 233 pounds (I am 5’9”), which is at least not my all time high of 253.

These days, my life is not all that bad, as things go. I am single, relatively financially secure (which I’m incredibly grateful for, given the current economy), and I recognize that I have many blessings. But things could definitely be better. My job is incredibly high stress and my workaholic tendencies don’t help matters much. On an average workday, I leave home at about 6:45 a.m. and don’t get back until about 7:30 or 8:00 p.m. The excessive schedule leaves me exhausted and frustrated, but if I’m honest, I know it also serves as a convenient excuse to not address things I’d rather not.

Finally, I struggle with developing a supportive community around me. I’ve moved across country twice in my life, both times alone and to a place where I didn’t know anyone. I have acquaintances, sure. They’re people that I can chat with at work or have the odd dinner or see a movie with on occasion; but I have not developed any deep friendships. It seems that at this age, people are entrenched in their own lives. They’ve got long established friendships and kids and spouses that they already don’t get to spend enough time with. They’re not looking to create significant new bonds and don’t have the time to do it even if they are. On the one hand, I am fairly introverted (in the Myers-Briggs sense, not in the sense of being shy), so I actually really cherish and need my time alone. As a result, most of the time, I get along fine. On the other hand, as I age, I see what I’m missing. I worry about things like having someone to call if I get sick or need help. I wonder how long it would take for someone to notice I was gone if I ever went missing.

Okay, now we’re venturing into depressing territory and that’s definitely not my intention. I’m actually in a very cheerful mood today! But I think that was necessary because you can’t appreciate progress unless you know where you started. And that’s where I’m starting. While I’m sure there will be introspective times over the next year, this blog is not meant to be all doom and gloom and misery. I’m determined that this is going to be a good year, a phoenix rising from the ashes kind of year. So, onward and upward.